Brand Blotters - Page 173/180

The notes of Schumann's "Traümerei" died away. Melissy glanced over her

music, and presently ran lightly into Chopin's "Valse Au Petit Chien." She

was, after all, only a girl; and there were moments when she forgot to

remember that she was wedded to the worst of unhanged villains. When she

drowned herself fathoms deep in her music, she had the best chance of

forgetting.

Chaminade's "The Flatterer" followed. In the midst of this the door opened

quietly and closed again. Melissy finished, fingered her music, and became

somehow aware that she was not alone. She turned unhurriedly on the seat

and met the smiling eyes of her husband.

From his high-heeled boots to his black, glossy hair, Black MacQueen was

dusty with travel. Beside him was a gunny sack, tied in the middle and

filled at both ends. Picturesque he was and always would be, but his

present costume scarce fitted the presence of a lady. Yet of this he gave

no sign. He was leaning back in a morris chair, rakish, debonair, and at

his ease. Evidently, he had been giving appreciative ear to the music, and

more appreciative eye to the musician.

"So it's you," said Melissy, white to the lips.

MacQueen arose, recovered his dusty hat from the floor, and bowed

theatrically. "Your long-lost husband, my dear."

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm visiting my wife. The explanation seems a trifle obvious."

"What do you want?"

"Have I said I wanted anything?"

"Then you had better leave. I'll give you up if I get a chance."

He looked at her with lazy derision. "I like you angry. Your eyes snap

electricity, sweet."

"Oh!" She gave a gesture of impatience. "Do you know that, if I were to

step to that window and call out your name, the whole town would be in

arms against you?"

"Why don't you?"

"I shall, if you don't go."

"Are you alone in the house?"

"Why do you ask?" Her heart was beating fast.

"Because you must hide me till night. Is your father here?"

"Not now. He is hunting you--to kill you if he finds you."

"Servants?"

"The cook is out for the afternoon. She will be back in an hour or two."

"Good! Get me food."

She did not rise. "I must know more. What is it? Are they hunting you?

What have you done now?" A strong suppressed excitement beat in her

pulses.